


Taming the Beast

by Lizardlicks



Series: Hemoshuffle [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Romantic Fluff, SGRUB, bloodswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardlicks/pseuds/Lizardlicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never really believed in diamonds at first sight, that was silly.  Trollywood fantasy stuff... right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taming the Beast

**Author's Note:**

> AU idea and beta by the lovely [Ushauz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ushauz)!

Teal words pop up onto your screen with the familiar ‘ping!’, and you tap open trollian to read what your friend has to say.  Nepeta has been so excited the last couple of hours, and you can’t say you blame her.  She finally got to meet her moirail in the flesh (what of it he has left anyway), and now you’re all gathering together at the behest of that shouty, purple asshole to his hive for some sort of ‘team meeting’ or whatever, so you get to see her for the first time too.  Bluh.  

It’s not that you aren’t excited too- Nepeta’s great!  She’s funny and silly and almost entirely too obsessed with dragons- but it’s the thought of being in a closed space with lots of other strangers that’s got you nervous.  It’s not like you’re scared or anything!  You’re a fierce predator, the master of your element; you’ve slain beasts that would give even Karkat pause.  You’re a proud, ferocious green blood and best nobody forget that fact or you’ll remind them.  It’s just... things are happening so fast.  The game has plunged everything into chaos and for the last few hours, it’s been a race of trying to stay ahead of enemies that steadily grow in power as each new player enters the medium while also figuring out your land’s quests.  You’re tired and wound-up tight and now you’re going to be meeting new people on top of everything else.

Your huskpad pings merrily again.

AC: :} < *ac descends upon the cliffside dwellings with a mighty thunderous clap of her powerful wings*  
AC: :} < *she extends one deadly talon to rap on the rock face and summon her feline companion from his lair

She’s looking to start another RP apparently.  There’s no one else around, and you’re between tasks, so you grin and start tapping out a reply.  Somehow she always knows when you need a pleasant distraction.

CA: *ca watches the dragoness from his hidden perch in the tr33s*  
CA: *when your back is turned the swift an handsome hunter leaps!*  
CA: *he alights between your leathery wings an shouts aha you have fallen for another a my traps fair scaly maiden!*  
AC: :o  
AC: :} < *not quite ac roars!*  
AC: :} < *she leaps into the air with another mighty boom of her mighty wings and performs a magnificent barrel roll!*  
CA: thats fuckin cheatin you shabby reptile  
CA: err...  
CA: *ca snarls this as he plummets through the air*  
CA: *its not a problem though he does a spectacular acrobatic stunt mid air an lands gracefully on his feet!*  
AC: :} < *ac lands beside you and flaps her wings whipping up a whirlwind!*  
CA: *ca can not resist striking a heroic pose as the wind ruffles his beautiful mane*  
AC: :} < pfff hahaha!  
AC: :} < eridan you cant do anything without looking rawrsome can you?  
CA: weve b33n over this nep  
CA: whats the point a bein a striking mythical fantasy race if you don’t look amazin while doin amazin things?

She’s teased you about this lots of times, but honestly life is one giant struggling grind through the mud most of the time anyway.  Isn’t the whole idea behind fantasy role playing escaping that for a little while?  Even playing Sgrub isn’t turning out quite like you had pictured, and taking this break is a welcome relief.

AC: :} < yeah but we are doing pretty amazing stuff right now!  
AC: :} < like getting to meet each other soon  
AC: :} < *ac can not wait to see her all of her friends together!*  
AC: :} < you and equius are going to be best pals i know it!  
AC: :} < beclaws you both like hoofbeasts and tradition and stuff  
CA: nep i like to eat hoofbeasts theres a world a fuckin difference there  
AC: :} < duh i know that  
AC: :} < he says as long as they dont suffer and you are doing it for food he cant really object  
CA: a course they dont suffer what kinda lousy shot do you take me for?  
AC: :} < see?  im right you two are going to get along grreat!  
CA: sure if you say so nep

You have your doubts, but the sweet kid is just so enthusiastic.  Well it can’t hurt much, now can it?  Might as well get this over with.

AC: :} < you remember the directions right?  
CA: yeah im pretty sure im not going to be able to miss the big fuck off ship in the middle a everythin  
AC: :} < perfect ill see you here then!  
AC: :} < *gives the grumpy puss a big sloppy dragon kiss and tells him he shouldnt worry so much*  
CA: *growls and swats at the dragoness as he has already had his bath tonight thanks an doesnt n33d another one*  
CA: *he does give her a lick on the snout an promises hell try though*  
AC: :} <*rumbles loudly in satisfaction*  
AC: :} < okay eridan i need to go but well talk in a bit  
AC: :} < <3

Oh.

_Oh!_

CA: ... <33!

Nepeta’s status switches to idle, and you try to reign your suddenly fluttering blood pusher into something resembling control.  You’re still nervous as all get out, but now it’s for an entirely different set of reasons.  

Stowing your huskpad in your sylladex, you start upward toward the next gate.  You actually didn’t have to do a whole lot of building to reach the first one, there were enough trees and cliffs to make scaling up to it relatively easy.  By now most of the player’s gates have been connected, and you have a simple, shittily drawn map ala the sea douche to follow that shows you which route will get you there the fastest, so there isn’t much left to do but climb and try to put everything else out of your mind until you get there.

 

~

 

Apparently, you were not even joking a little when you called Karkat’s hive a big fuck-off ship; the thing is _huge_.  That lets you relax a smidgen at least.  There should be elbow room enough, you think, and plenty of interesting things to distract you if people start to make you feel overwhelmed.  This actually might turn out to be fun.  

Growing up in such a secluded hive meant that even neighbors were few and far between.  This will be the first time you get to really interact with a lot of trolls at once, and the prospect has you excited underneath all the nerves.  You wouldn’t have traded your home range for anything, but sometimes living in the wilderness did get to be a bit lonely.  There is promise of new faces and friends here, and you aren’t about to pass that up.  You ascend to the deck of the boat, planning on quietly settling in an out of the way spot and observing this so called tactical meeting as it gets underway until you can get used to the crowd.

You don’t get that chance.

As soon as you edge your way through the main foyer and into the meeting room, there’s a tiny troll girl in a blindingly yellow and orange cape bounding over to you with a squeal.  You get tackled around the middle and go down in a heap, girl and all.  

“Eridan!  I was waiting in the wings forever for you to show up!  Now you’re here, and we’re all together, and I can introduce you to everybody. This is going to be so much fun!”  It’s not hard to figure out that this is Nepeta, especially since the hood of her cloak is shaped like a cutesy plush dragon head.  She gives you a squeeze, and you feel your ribs creak.  She’s surprisingly strong for such a little thing.

“Easy, Nep, I still need to breath,” you warn her gently.

“Oh, hah, sorry!”  She lets go of you to sit up and beam down a charming smile.  Your heart rate has tripled again thanks to that spike of adrenaline and the fact that your lap is still being straddled by your best friend and flush crush.  She seems to realize what she’s doing at the exact same moment you do because there’s bloom of teal slowly forming over her cheeks.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

“Hi,” she giggles and echoes back.

The arresting exchange is interrupted by a loud “Ahem!” and a shadow falling over you.  When you tilt your head back to look behind you, there is a mountain of a troll looming in the doorway, a patchwork golem of flesh and steel.  You only squeak a little.

Nepeta bounces up to her feet as fast as she had knocked you off yours, and she pulls you along for the trip before you have a chance to protest.  She hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you toward- toward!- the glowering behemoth, grinning broadly the whole time, and you are suddenly not so certain this was a good idea.

“Equius!” she greets him with enthusiasm. “This is Eridan!  He’s the troll I told you about.  See?  Isn’t he just top scale?”  

“Yes I see,” Equius rumbles.  He gives you an appraising look up and down before thrusting an open hand in your direction.  It takes you an embarrassingly long second to remember it’s a formal tradition of greeting before you place your own hand, palm facing his, into his grasp.  He engulfs it when he closes his fingers and gives you one firm shake.  For his size, he’s surprisingly gentle.

“It is a pleasure to finally be introduced.  As you can guess, Nepeta has spoken quite often of you.”

“Yeah, you too.  I mean for both.  It’s nice... um.”  You could not want to facepalm any harder as you stutter over an introduction.  He hasn’t let go of your hand yet, and you think the grip might be extending past any amount of time that would be considered appropriate when he tugs you closer and leans in to address you quietly.

“I however feel I must inquire as to what your long term intentions are for my moirail.”  He says it gravely serious, and this time you really do squeak.  Nepeta intervenes by batting at his arm and shushing him.

“Equius stop, you’re gonna scare him,” she scolds, and he releases your trapped hand.

“Of course, I do apologize.  This is perhaps not the appropriate time for discussion of quadrants.  I will caution you, however, that Nepeta is very dear to me, and it would behoove you to act as a gentleman in her presence.”

You find yourself nodding emphatically.  “Yeah, a course.  Wouldn’t dream a nothin but bein on my best behavior,” you promise up and down and hope that’s enough to get him to stop staring at you like that.  Nepeta tsks softly and leads you away by her grip on you before things can get any more awkward.  

“Don’t mind Equius.  He can be imclawsible sometimes, but he’s really a big softy,” she assures you.  You really hope so, because he’s following after you, albeit at a respectful distance.  This meeting is not going how you planned at all.  That face splitting smile returns in full force as she bounces you along towards a big table in the center of the room where some other trolls have already gathered.  “Come on, let’s go introduce you to everybody else!”

 

~

 

Not everyone is here yet, as it turns out.  It seems your host and the other seatroll are both dealing with something or another in private, and some of the other trolls still have to fight their way through their lands before they’ll be able to get here, so it’s not as crowded as it could be.  The meeting is being held in an honest to god formal diningblock; you’ve never seen one before, and it’s absurdly large for the fact that only one troll lives here.  The rest of the players that managed to show up are gathered around the oblong table located square in the center of the block.  

Two of them are huddled over some maps and arguing quite loudly over something to do with dig sites or treasure.  One lanky bastard is sprawled sideways across a chair so that his legs hang over the arm and looking like he really couldn’t care less about the rest of the world, and a fourth troll sits in the chair beside him with her elbows propped on the table. The last, painted up like a clown cultist, stands partway between them, frowning at the two bickering females and looking like she’s only just resisting the urge to step in.  They pull apart and all turn towards you when Nepeta walks you up to them.

She introduces each one in turn.  There’s Aradia, a smiling, rugged looking jade blood.  Kanaya is the painted troll; she manages to wrap herself in a rainbow of colors yet not let any of them clash, and that’s impressive.  The lounging troll is Gamzee.  He tips you a lazy wave that looks perfectly nonchalant, but the way his eyes scan over you feels predatory, and there’s a strange tickle on the back of your neck like you just walked into a spider web.  Terezi almost needs no introduction.  She’s the only troll not outwardly wearing any caste colors, and there’s only one grey trollian handle on your chumproll that would match to.  Vriska is last, and it takes a second for your brain to catch up with why the name sounds familiar, but the icy way Nepeta pronounces it combines with the mock friendliness of the smiles they exchange and it clicks.  

There was some sort of large falling out after a bad FLARP game about a sweep ago.  It’s the reason Equius is now more metal than troll, and it looks like there’s still bad vibes between them, even if the actual fighting was brought to an end.  If Gamzee’s appraisal was predatory, then the smile Vriska give you is out right hungry, showing just a few too many teeth to make you comfortable.  She hauls herself up onto the table (and the maps, to Aradia’s protesting) and kicks her feet absently.

“Ugh, finally someone entertaining shows up!  You have no idea how booooring the rest of these losers are.  Good thing I’m here to spice the place up or you’d drop dead in five minutes of it.  Nice skirt by the way.”

“It’s a traditional huntin vestment,” you sniff and puff up a little, “an I’ll have you know it’s a perfect replica a the one my ancestor wore while on an expedition a discovery through the Butcherback mountains at the turn a the eighth century.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about that,” Aradia pipes up from behind her, “That means your ancestor is Huntsman Dualscar, right?”

“One an the same,” you confirm.  She looks quite a bit more interested now, and that makes you swell with pride.  Your love of things historical might not go entirely unappreciated here after all.  Vriska fakes a yawn.

“Yeah, I guess that could be cool.  If you’re into big rocks and dirt like this nerd.”  Aradia snorts, but Vriska ignores her.  “Pirates, on the other hand, are awesome.  Hey Nepeta, quit hogging the new kid already.”

Nepeta’s grip on you tightens for a fraction of a second, then she lets go and flops into one of the the unoccupied chairs.  She’s casual and relaxed, and you get the impression that it’s entirely constructed for Vriska’s benefit.   _Look how clingy I’m not being!  Nope, totally don’t care, everything is cool._

Everything is not cool.  You didn’t realize how much Nep’s touch had been grounding you in the situation.  Now that she’s detached, you suddenly feel like you’re somehow free falling while still standing on solid ground.  It doesn’t take much more than a brief exchange of unreadable expressions between the two for Vriska to hook your elbow and pull you to her side.  You have no choice but to go either, she’s ungodly strong, more so than Nepeta or even what her caste would usually indicate.  Resisting would probably end up in a dislocated joint, so you let yourself be dragged along.  Nepeta tenses in her seat but makes no move to intervene.

“So, Eridan, how’d you like to hang out with someone who knows how to have a good time?”   Vriska is teasing just to ruffle the other girl, you know it, but it makes you heat just the same.

“Oh yeah,” Aradia drawls from the other side, “punching imps in the nose is the pinnacle of entertainment.  How can things get anymore exciting?”

The range of motion Vris can get in an eyeroll is impressive, you’ll give her that.

“We only have to punch ‘em if they’re too stupid to move out of the way.  Which is most of the time, since imps aren’t very bright.”  She gleams that too big smile at you. “But what I was talking about was the stuff we get after.  You got enough boonbucks to get a fraymotif yet?”

“No, can’t say as I have,” you admit.  Most of the time you’ve spent in game so far has been devoted to exploration and reconnaissance.  Enemies will still be there to waste once you know their weaknesses.  Plus those angel things in the town really freak you out for some reason, so you’ve been putting a visit to their “store” off for a bit.

“Oh man, we so need to get you the one that you can combo with mine.  It’ll be soooo sweet, I just know it!  What strifekind do you use anyway?”

You’re about to answer her when Kanaya interjects this time.  “Vriska, you can not go dragging everybody off on adventures willy nilly.  We need to establish which of the players are best suited to assist the space player with frog breeding duties.  I am under the impression that there is a time limit for this task.”

“Bluh, who wants to go play with a bunch of slimy amphibians when there’s treasure hunting to be done?” She wrinkles her nose and makes an exaggerated face, then rests her hand on your shoulder.  “You’re with me on this, right Eridan?”

“I think that’s kind of what this meeting is about,” Terezi finally chips in her own voice, “you know, figuring out who will be good at what.  We don’t all have to go catch frogs, and we don’t all have to slog through ogres looking for spare change in their pockets.”

“I think they have a fair point,” you add.  “Not everyone is here yet.  We’ll form parties once we get sorted.”

“Aw, c’mon!  This is a waste of time, everyone is just going to do their own thing anyway.  Might as well get started instead of being pointlessly bored for hours.”  She gives your shoulder a brief squeeze; you aren’t sure whether it was meant to be friendly, threatening or both, but it pops uncomfortably.

“Don’t you hurt him, Vriska,” Nepeta warns her in a low growl.  The other girl looks affronted.  She throws her hands in the air, and comes a little too close to hitting you in the face.

“Ugh, what is even your deal, Leijon?  I’m hardly touching him.  I just wanted to be friendly, but you have to go and poison everyone against me!”

They’re both bristling now.  Nepeta’s claws have scored lines in the plush arm of her chair from how tightly she’s gripping it.  “Maybe you do that yourself by being so clawful,” she snarls.

“I see how it is!”  The floorboards creak threateningly as Vriska’s boot heels slam down.  “I’m trying to be nice and offer the pitted fruit tree branch here, but you’re just going to throw it back in my face!”

Nepeta’s lips curl back over her teeth in a vicious sneer, and she rises out of her chair too.  The space between them in too small and crackling with tension, and you’re thumbing your strifekind to the front of the deck on instinct despite the uselessness of a long ranged weapon in such close quarters, because there’s no way bloodshed isn’t going to happen.  The dragon girl hisses.

“Well maybe I would take it if it wasn’t covered in rawrten fruit,” she spits.

“That is entirely enough foalishness,” Equius booms from over your shoulder, and you jump.  How could you even have forgotten the big troll was back there?  He’s been quiet the whole time and somehow he completely left your mind, but now he’s looming right behind you, making an impassable wall.

“Yes, I think maybe we all need to sit back down and have a drink until the others get here,” Kanaya agrees.  There’s a funny _fizzzzpop!_ noise as she pulls a bottled, brightly colored drink from her sylladex and plops it on the table.  “Perhaps we can consume some wicked elixir together?”

“No one wants your crummy soda, Maryam,” Vriska snaps.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Terezi quietly push her chair back and make a hasty exit, and a rock of dread hits your gut.  Gamzee is sitting up too, watching attentively though whether he intends to join, flee or intervene is entirely unknown to you.  There’s only so much more of this anyone can take before the blood starts flowing.

“Stop being so mean; she’s trying to help!” Nepeta shrieks, the tone going directly opposite the direction of calming down.

“How about your stupid friends butt out, and we take this outside where I can clip your wings, lizard girl,” Vriska snarls and stomps forward.  Nepeta’s claws are out in a flash.  Equius steps around you, and Aradia and Gamzee are both leaping to their feet and getting ready for a strife while your bloodpusher is hammering away at the back side of your sternum--

A hard jolt of blind terror drops into your thinkpan like a brick.  As one, the entire room scatters, each troll ducking to find cover or scramble away from the other rather than leaping _at_ each other like they were trying to do a second ago.  You end up under a chair with Aradia tucked under the table next to you as you both gawk wide eyed at the rest of your cowed party.  Not a person is left in their original position save one: Kanaya stands bold as you please in the middle of everything with her arms crossed and a look of stern disapproval on her face.

“I believe that is quite enough,” she says with authority.

Somewhere off to your left someone shuffles up and Vriska’s sneakers step into view.  “Okay,” she huffs, “We get it, you can turn the chuckle voodoos off now, Kanaya.”  The foreign weight of someone else’s mind oinkbeast-backing on your own falls away a moment later, but not all of the cold panic goes with it.  You grip the legs of the chair and screw your eyes shut against the welling storm in your head and try to breathe through it.

There are too many bodies in the room, and they are all starting to move and gather back in around you again, and you feel trapped.

“Eridan, are you okay?”  Nepeta’s voice speaks up from right beside you, and when you open your eyes you’re startled by her hand reaching toward you.

It’s like someone flipped a switch in your grey matter.  One second you’re keeping the lid squashed tightly over all that nervous energy until it’s had a chance to dissipate, and the next it’s just thrown the rational, thinking part of your brain right out of your body as it explodes.

“No!  Stoppit, don’t touch me,” you squeal and try to dart away- only you’re still under a chair so it topples over onto the floor, and you end up going ass over head onto the floor again as it catches your knees and trips you.  Now everybody is staring at you.  They’re frowning, and some of them are open mouthed in shock, and most of them are starting to reach their hands out and walk toward you as well, and that’s the final straw.

With one last agonized wail you scramble up onto all fours and abscond it whatever direction you can.

 

~

 

You end up in the adjacent foodprepblock.

It’s a dead end.

The raving feral troll in your head is still jumping up and down and shrieking like a doomed thing, and you can barely think around it, but being trapped forces you to take a moment and assess the situation.  You... you just embarrassed yourself in front of a great number of people by having to most unattractive freak out in the history of ever.

You groan and drop your face into your hands.  This was a stupid, terrible, horrible idea, and fuck you for a fool thinking otherwise.  You knew this was going to be too much, too fast and too soon, but you went for it anyway.  Now everyone can sit around and reflect on what a half-feral loser you are.  Probably questioning whether or not they should cull you at this point.  Last of the race or not, a feral troll is a liability, and you’ve felt the pull of wild instinct edging in for a while now.

There’s a knock at the door, and you jump again then curse yourself.

“Eridan?” Nepeta’s voice come through soft and muffled, trying to be gentle, “You can come back out, we didn’t mean to scare you.”

No.  No you really can’t come back out, but you’re having trouble articulating that.  You can’t get your breathing under control just yet and worse is the shame over just how much you had overreacted.  Your heart really isn’t up to trying to look anyone in the eye right now.  Maybe not ever.  Maybe you can hide here and wait till everyone has left, then sneak back to your world, dig a hole in the ground and bury yourself under a rock for the rest of eternity.

“Just leave me alone,” you finally manage to whine pathetically.  For a moment it seems like she listens since there’s a long pause, but finally she comes back, tone pleading.

“I’ll come in there then.  Just me okay?”  The doorknob rattles as she starts to turn it, and wild panic monkey stamps down on you again.  There isn’t anywhere to escape to in here, it’s all cupboards and kitchen appliances but years of instinct honed for the woods and the trees tells you to go up.  You spot the gap between the top of the thermalhull and the ceiling and make a beeline, scaling up the drawers and the countertop before pulling yourself up on top of the large appliance and tucking yourself back as far as you can against the wall not a moment too soon.  

Nepeta pokes her head in, and you cringe back away from the edge.  You know you’re being pupa-ish.  Throwing a tantrum like a barely molted wiggler and then hiding to avoid the consequences, but you can’t even bring yourself to just talk to sweet little Nepeta.  She looks around the room, confused for a moment since it’s not a very large block and there’s no other way to leave, but it doesn’t take her long to spot you; you’re not a small troll, and there’s only so much room up here.

She tiptoes the rest of the way in like the floor is made of broken glass, and you try to melt into your hiding place more.  Become one with the thermalhull and maybe the embarrassment won’t eat you alive.  She frowns at you.

“What are you doing up there?”

Nope, you’re going to be mortified for the rest of the night.  Fuck your life decisions.  You try not to repeatedly smack your forehead into the top of the appliance and only manage to resist the urge by the slimmest margin.  After a longer pause you hiss out a long suffering sigh.

“ ‘M sorry, Nep, I just need a little time alone right now, okay?”  You wish desperately that you didn’t feel like such an asshole begging for reprieve, but the way her face falls kicks you in the heart.

“No, I’m sorry.  I- I knew this was new for you.  I shouldn’t have pushed so hard for you to meet everybody all at once.  It’s only that-” her chest hitches- “that I wanted all my friends together and- and-”  Oh god, there’s pale, teal tears coloring the corners of her eyes.  Your thoracic cage feels like it won’t open enough for air, and it gives your blood pusher a painful squeeze.  This is too much, your emotions are leaping all over the place, and if Nep starts breaking down you think there’s nothing stopping you from going into catatonic overload.

From beyond the doorway you can hear the others shuffle and whisper, your hypersensitive cartilage flaps funnel the sound right into your thinkpan.  Gamzee rasps a chuckle and says, “I think you broke the cat brother, my clown sis.”

Kanaya gives a soft, distressed keen and replies, “I didn’t mean to hurt him, the poor thing.  Do you think I should go in there try to help sort this out?”

They’re all worried and fussing over you.  Kanaya and Nepeta both think it’s their fault that you’re acting like a petulant child when really it’s your stupid, animal brain that won’t turn off, and it fucking hurts.  You press your face into your arms and whimper, willing them to all go away and leave you to wallow in your misery, but of course you have no power to bend reality like that.

Then from the other room of hear Vriska growl, “Oh for crying out loud you’re all hopeless.  Get outta my way, morons, I can get him down from there.”

There’s varying levels of confused protesting, all ignored, before she stomps into the room with shoulders squared in determination and brandishing... a god damned broom.

Nepeta squeals, “Don’t you dare,” and inserts herself between the advancing blueblood and you, but Vriska just keeps stalking forward, ignoring her.  She ends up hanging off the back of the other girl’s shoulders, digging her heels into the floor in a futile effort to slow or stall Vriska in her plan and getting dragged along for the length of the room.  Your friend finally resorts to more distracting tactics when she gets a fist in the other’s hair and yanks- hard.

Vriska’s yelp is ear piercing but she doesn’t seem hurt so much as surprised.  Instead of stopping, she flicks a hand at Nep over her shoulder and with hardly an effort the teal blood is knocked completely free and sprawled on the floor.

“Ease off, ya scaly freak,” she tells her, “I’m not gonna hurt him, and it’s for his own good.  You guys just leave him to cower in a corner, and he’s never gonna learn to deal with shit.”

She advances on you then, fluffy end of the broom leading.  It’s as clear an actual threat as your hindbrain has gotten all evening and there’s nowhere left to retreat to so it switches gears from flight to fight.  There’s no more talking, pleading for space and time alone.  You hiss instead.  You spit and snarl at the invading thing when Vriska pokes at you and rake out a chunk of bristles with a parrying swipe.  The angry yowl that issues from the back of your throat would do your lusus proud if he were still around to witness it.

But the sound is nothing compared to the outraged shout that crashes over all the noise of squabbling trolls a second later.

“WHAT IN THE TAINTLICKING HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE?”

The distraction lets you knock the cleaning device away again but Vriska doesn’t try to continue batting at you, she’s too focused on the new ruckus.  You can hunker back and try to catch your breath.

All attention turns to the door where a new troll his elbowing his way through the gathered crowd at the threshold.  The brief flash of vibrant purple is all you need to recognize who it is.  He shoves his way through and storms- there really couldn’t be a better word for it, it’s like the kid is surrounded by a perpetual, invisible hurricane of fuck you- right into the middle of the block, scowling like he was hatched with that expression.  He’s... okay wow, for a seadweller you were sure expecting something more impressive.

Karkat doesn’t dress in the flash and fussy decoration that you would expect of a troll for his station.  Rather, he wears something black and grey with a simple cut that closely resembles a functionable military uniform with only touches of violet to denote rank.  He’s also _tiny_.  He’s almost certainly a bit taller than Nep but not anywhere close to Vriska and that puts him shorter than a lot of the other trolls too.  His horns are small and blunt and even the fins at his face that he spreads in threat are small.  A wild urge flashes through you to leap down, to snap and rake and shred to pieces anyone trying to get near him or cause him harm.  It’s only the fear that keeps you pinned in place but that’s ebbing.

“You have got to be shitting me,” he says when he spots Vriska, still pointing the broom in your direction and looking annoyed at the interruption rather than intimidated.  “Who’s pan searingly bright idea was it to let Serket handle the guy having a panic attack in my kitchen, because wow, seriously A plus reasoning skills there, now step in line for your asskicking.”

“Karkat, she-” Nepeta starts.

“I wasn’t doing any-” Vriska interjects at the same time and Kanaya starts to add, “This was actually my-”

Karkat holds up a hand and pinches his nose with the other with a very pointed sigh.

“You know what?  I don’t care.  This is me not caring.  I want every last one of you looneyblock idiots out of the immediate vicinity by last fucking night.  If I so much as see a grasp nub or peep ball in here or the dining room for at least the next two hours I will explode in a frothing volcano of rage and fury the likes of which has never been recorded in history, got it?”

There’s a lot of guilty looks and quiet shuffling before the doorway clears out.  Vriska looks like she’s ready to challenge Karkat for a full beat, but he just levels a glare at her till she snorts.

“Fine,” she snaps and shoves the broom at his chest, eliciting a grunt and half stagger from him, and growl from you.  “Whatever, it’s your problem to deal with now.  See if I try to do you any more favors in the future!”  She flounces past him, out of the room with a flip of her hair.  Nepeta has already climbed to her feet and started brushing herself off.  She shoots Karkat a relieved smile.

“Thanks for dealing with that, I think maybe I’m not the best person to try and talk Vriska out of something.”  When she doesn’t make a move to follow after the others Karkat only continues to frown at her.

“I meant you too, Nepeta,” he tells her gently, “you’ve done enough for now.”  Despite the careful tone, the littler troll still sinks, expression drooping.

“O-oh.  Right, okay.  I’ll try to keep everybody out of the way.”  She slinks dejectedly after everyone else.  There’s one last person still lingering that you didn’t notice.  Terezi leans in the doorway waiting for the other girl to exit then quietly shuts the door on the two of you, but not before she tosses Karkat a wink.  What the fuck?

Karkat doesn’t seem to know either, he just mashes his face into his palm and growls.  He only remembers that he’s still clutching the broom in the other hand a moment later and tosses it into a corner with a grimace of disgust so he can rake both through his hair.  It messes up his perfect slick of mane pretty spectacularly.

When he sets to pacing and still hasn’t said a word to or looked at you, you’re pretty sure you have fucked up on a scale yet as unreached before now.  Instead of an over enthusiastic blue blood you now have a pissed off sea troll to deal with.  He might be small and cute but he still has all the features that ping your instincts as a potential threat. 

He pauses, taps a foot and sighs again then turns your way and starts walking toward the thermalhull.  You flinch back but he doesn’t even pay one lick of attention to it.  Instead he opens the thermalhull and starts pulling things out, then kicks the door shut with a heel and moves to gather cooking implements.

He doesn’t say one damn thing to you the whole time.  Not a shout or a whisper, not a demand, or a plea or even a “funny weather we’re having in my game world tonight, isn’t it,” comment.  He just stomps around the block clanging pots and pans together and moving in utter silence otherwise as he works, and you huddle with your arms curled over your head and knees tucked to your chest.  At one point he opens the thermalhull door again and you peek over the edge to see if he’s paying any attention, but he doesn’t so much as glance at you.

The sounds of cooking aren’t as disjointed as you’d thought they’d be.  There’s a strangely soothing rhythm in his work: the chopping of vegetable and animal matter, the hiss of flame and soft whispering of a whisk in the pan.  You find it actually lulls something in your brain to listen to the pattern.

Eventually you can hear ingredients starting to sizzle happily and not long after that mouthwatering smells make their way back to your hiding place.  Your stomach gurgles and flops in petulant rebellion to your self-imposed exile, reminding you forcefully that it’s well past lunch and you only had a light breakfast. Karkat appears to be finishing up whatever he’s making; he turns off the heating unit and ladles something that looks and smells divine into a pair of serving bowls.  One he takes, the other he leaves on the counter.

“Whenever you feel like it,” he says without looking at you then exits the room himself.

 

~

 

You’re ravenous by the time your stomach wins out over paranoia.  The bowl Karkat left on the counter is filled with simple foods, a mix of meat and aromatic vegetables cooked only enough to heat through without demolishing the complex flavor or textures and coated in a light sauce.  It tastes as good as it smelled, but the pleasure is doused by a bitter stab of guilt.  Despite your appetite, the few bites you’ve taken sit like rocks and make you feel worse, not better.

You’re clear headed enough to reflect by this point and you don’t like what you see.  You’ve made a mess of things that you aren’t sure you can unmake right now and brought the whole thing down in the middle of your host’s hive while he was trying to get everyone to work together, not break apart.  Planning and organizing has been derailed so you can get over your tantrum.  You poke at a fair sized piece of meat with a claw for a bit while you contemplate the utter shit joke of your existence, then finally resolve to at least try to start setting things right.  If nothing else you owe the seadweller some thanks and an apology.  You gather the bowl up and start to make your way to the next room

It’s a surprise to find Karkat sitting on the floor next to the upturned chair.  He didn’t even bother setting it up right first, just plopped down next to it, folding his legs up and balancing his bowl on his knees.  He’s staring pensively at the corner when you poke your head out of the foodprepblock.  He glances up, tips a little nod then goes to pick something out of his bowl to munch.  Presence acknowledged; no pressure.

You shuffle up till you’re looking at his boots.  Curled up like that he really does look small.  He must have been the runtiest troll at sea, pushing hard every step just to keep up with the bigger, fiercer highbloods.  The thought makes your pumpbiscuit flop with hurt in sympathy.

“You want to stare at my magnificence all day or did you want to say something?”  His voice startles you out of whatever was just going on it your head, and you can’t help a shy smile.

“Yeah.  Can I sit?”  He gestures to the floor beside him, and you sit cross-legged in the spot he pointed to.  It takes a few long seconds and two false starts before you can clear your squawk box and say something that you hope won’t embarrass you further.

“I’m... sorry.  About all a this mess. I shoulda-”

“No,” he cuts you off and your jaw snaps shut on your words.  “Shut up and listen for one second,” he tells you, so you do.

“We are up to our gander bulbs in weird ass shit.  Our lusii are dead, the whole planet is probably space dust by now, along with everyone else we might have known save for us twelve morons who can hardly go ten minutes without doing grievous bodily harm or property damage to something.  One of us was bound to have a break down, and I’m just glad it was you and not, I dunno, Feferi or something.  Girl has fucking eye lazers, it’s scary as shit.”  He briefly lapses back into silence, stiffly skewers another bit of meat to savage and makes sure he’s chewed it to paste before continuing.

“Trying to keep you nooklickers from killing each other is my responsibility.  I was the one who demanded a group of volatile trolls, some of which have a history of repeatedly trying to kick each other’s asses, gather in one place, and then I wasn’t even there to to keep it sorted.”  His fins press flat back against his skull and that only succeeds in making him look more vulnerable.  “I let myself get distracted by stupid ass shit.  We’re both lucky something worse didn’t happen, and it’s my fault that it happened in the first place.”  

Fuck, he’s hunching up his shoulders and curling around some angry, wounded part of himself that’s too familiar for words.  You ache for this kid and his overinflated sense of responsibility.  It’s like he thinks he’s Troll Atlas or something, and if he stops holding everything up, it will all just roll out of control.  When he sucks in another breaths through clenched teeth and makes as though he’s going to keep going with his self flagellation you can’t help it.

You drop your palm against his cheek, soft as kittens, and watch as his whole body tenses right before it snaps and drains out in a flood.  He crumples, but in a good way, leaning into your hand till your shoulders touch.  It’s amazing.  It’s something you only ever read about in books, romantic gestures that carry the weight of a thousand words and can tame the most deadly of highbloods.

“Shhh,” you hush, and he sighs like it’s a balm on a burn.  You run a thumb over the tine of one delicate fin and listen as a stilted, rusty purr starts to work its way out of his squawkblister.  It’s a marvel that you’re working, and you want to keep doing it, so you don’t stop.

“You know,” he works out around the clicking in his throat, “you’re supposed to ask before you pap.  We could be engaging in some out right adulterous kinky pale stuff right now.”  You stiffen but don’t back off.

“I well I defend my stance that if you have a moirail, they’re doin a right fuckin miserable job,” you reply.  “‘sides I have swooned.  This is me swoonin, Kar.”  He laughs, a sound almost as stiff as his purr, but you love it.  Would love to hear more of it, especially if you’re the one making him do it.

“S’not your fault,” you say when he’s nearly a puddle of limbs.  Karkat snorts and looks up at you but doesn’t seem inclined to protest so long as you keep stroking.  “There’s a mess a us bringin all our own issues an we gotta deal with that ourselves at some point or you’ll just be lususin us the whole time.  Can’t be ashen for the whole lot.”

“Watch me,” he chuckles dryly, then relents, “But I guess you’re right.  Doesn’t mean I have to like it.  And if anyone goes getting their pointy cartilage nubs up in your business you come tell me directly anyway.”

“So... does that make this diamond thing official then?” you have to ask because you weren’t really joking.  You’ve fallen tail backwards pale for this shouty menace to eardrums.  It’s ridiculous, pity at first sight is supposed to be a thing that only happens in fakey- fake romance stories, but here you are cuddling a guy you can count the number of times you’ve spoken to before on just your fingers, and you couldn’t be happier.

You don’t want this to be a one time thing and the not knowing is killing you.  He looks at you out of the corner of his eye like you’ve grown a second head, and your heart twists painfully with the thought that he might be ready to just tell you off, but he puffs.

“Of course it is.  I’m a fucking traditionalist, here.  You think I’d let you go and plaster your greasy hands all over my face if I didn’t mean to follow through?  What kind of troll of loose morals do think me to be?  Idiot.”  He says the last with such warming affection that it fills you up to bursting.  Then he glances slyly and lifts a hand to stroke your cheek with the back of his knuckles and- oh.  Oh that is good.  

The touch flushes out a bunch of leftover prickly nerves you hadn’t realized were there.  He keeps it up, running fingers up the curve of you jaw and rubs right behind your ear till you’re the one reduced to a rumbling puddle of slushy good feelings.

“Besides,” he admits with a smirk as he pulls you into his lap, “I was kind of trying to seduce you with my cooking.”  You laugh and tell him it worked.

The food has gone cold by the time you break apart to finish eating, but it’s fantastic anyway.  Nepeta is delighted to update her shipping wall later that night.


End file.
